Take one misanthropic drunkard, add a gormless long haired assistant, sprinkle with a female singleton's nightmare, and cook under a surreal Irishman, for say thirty minutes. The result? A cake so stuffed with laughs, it could be your final meal.
Black Books is one of those programmes that is so good it deserves to be shown to the dead. Apart from the witty swipes at British society, the clever interplay of characters, and a man who does not want to be a good book salesman, Black Books is not that complex. But it doesn't have to be. The plots are razor thin, but Dadaism is the name of the game, and the collaberation of award winning comedian Dylan Moran (the show's main protagonist Bernard Black) and Graham Lineham (you know,Father Ted) sparkles with fantastic writing, and crucially credulous acting.
Yes, Bernard may hate those who give him money, Manny his assistant may mistake wine destined for papal hands for wine with Londis stickers on them, and Fran may have an amourous repitoire of "Look at those breasts", but it all fits. This is a comedy of breath taking mirth, a panacea for the dead man that is British sitcom, but above all, a show that is not afraid to demonstrate the darkness there is at the bottom of a shoe that was once filled with scrambled egg.